Thursday, May 14, 2009

Lady of the dance

The Morrigan has an absolutely hilarious post up about the practical (and very physical) pain of brazilian wax jobs; I highly suggest you read it. A friend of mine had a similar incident a few years back. She attempted to wax herself without first testing the heat of the wax.

Fire down below!

To escape the burning pain, she jumped into her tub to cool off - and wound up stuck to it. I think it took her almost an hour to extract her (now very raw) labia from the porcelain. This is all funny in retrospect, of course, since she wasn't permanently damaged. At the time, though, she had to contemplate whether to extract herself with considerable bloodshed or call 911. When you're a slave to pubic hair fashion, these are the rewards you reap.

Bepenised readers, allow your favorite redhead to pontificate on the royal pain in the ass that is female grooming and maintenance. If the ladybits are right on the outside, they're not right on the inside, or vice versa; sometimes they're just not right altogether. On a good day, having ladyparts is divine, like owning a heated indoor pool that just happened to be installed between your thighs; orgasmically speaking, we're built with an Uzi to a man's shotgun. On a bad day, though, ladybusiness is like a foreign car - finicky and impractical, stalling at intersections, with weird looking parts that are expensive to replace. It's a double-edged sword, boys. The proverbial blessing-and-curse paradox if there ever was one.

Every single one of us women has some humiliating grooming story in her past. The Morrigan has inspired me to share mine, so here goes:

Ginger: I haven't seen it without hair in twenty years! Oh my god, I look twelve! And I'm cold!

Tabitha: (trying to control giggling) And how did this happen?

Ginger: Um. I was cleaning it up and kind of missed...so I shaved some more off. Then it was uneven so I shaved some more...tried to even it out on the sides...and wound up with a patch that kind of looked...like a Hitler moustache.

Tabitha: OH MY GOD HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

Ginger: I...contemplated leaving it there but it had to go. I cannot look at that every day. I do not have a fascist punany.

It's not just grooming that gets us women into trouble. Like a heated pool or expensive car, the ladybusiness contains delicate parts that need fine tuning. Their temperature, fluid levels and pH can be thrown off by lifestyle, medication and even laundry detergent.

In the early 00's, I wound up on antibiotics for a sinus infection that had spread to my ears. My fellow females probably already know where I'm going with this; as for my male readers, let it be known that antibiotics can dry up the ladybusiness from the inside out. This is, predictably, uncomfortable and requires one to moisturize the area a few times a day.

Towards the end of my prescription, I stepped out of shower one morning after a not particularly great night of sleep. Those of you who are regular readers of this blog already know that I am (a) and insomniac and (b) really, really not a morning person. Having overslept on this particular morning, I was in a rush. Instead of picking up my 'feminine moisturizer', which came in a long plastic tube, my barely awake self grabbed, and applied, tartar control mint toothpaste to my, um...well.

Have you ever seen Riverdance? Picture one of the performers on crack cocaine. I jumped back in the shower, towels and all, to douse what felt like hydrochloric acid burning its way through my most tender parts.

On the bright side, I was completely awake after that. The downside was that I was even later for work than usual. It was also uncomfortable to sit for two days.

So, boys, when you're trying to get with a woman, whether you've been with her before or are making the first move, bear in mind the amount of maintenance put upon the fairer sex by nature and fashion. Show us that you're appreciative of our efforts by keeping your bits clean. I MEAN EVERYTHING. Use baby wipes. Make sure it shines. Yes, we will notice, and in fact, it's the least you owe us for our troubles.

4 Comments:

"On a good day, having ladyparts is divine, like owning a heated indoor pool that just happened to be installed between your thighs; orgasmically speaking, we're built with an Uzi to a man's shotgun. On a bad day, though, ladybusiness is like a foreign car - finicky and impractical, stalling at intersections, with weird looking parts that are expensive to replace."